Under the tree of the university
A shadow was gruesomely cast.
The branches made too much shade
And there grew no grass.
No one would lie under its wood
Down beside its trunk;
It wasn't essential, there was no potential,
Claimed the revered monk
But late at night you'll find him lying in the dirt
Wearing a Paisley Poplin Shirt

The click of the gears define his years,
A cycle on a chain
A cloud of sand thrown by his own hand
Hones forth his pain
He blows seeds of dandelion weeds
****** a ****** field
And he pretends that he intends
To reap this horrible yield
Because unintentionally he subconsciously convert
To one who wears a Paisley Poplin Shirt

Covered in rust, a blade he adjusts,
His mind remains unwrung
The words to speak were too **** bleak
So he cuts off his tongue
He'll be finished when he's diminished
These humanly sights
If there's no vision at the end of his mission
He'll gouge out his eyes
And Helen Keller takes one of her old ragged skirts
And fashions him a Paisley Poplin Shirt

Why must we be obsessed
With the unseen
When we know we cannot
Make something out of nothing
And to those of you who think that you cannot be hurt
Stones go thru a Paisley Poplin Shirt

In a drunken stupor the widow lies awake
As she waits quietly for dawn to swiftly break
As the trumpet hums its chords and loudly plays
I can't even look at
Where he lay

Kicked from the infantry and stripped of my gun
For knowing that a victory is never truly won
I scoff at the thankful and their euphoric praise
I can't even look at
Where he lay

One must submit to chaos to birth a dancing star
But to walk a narrow path's to swim a pool of tar
We are merely blunders made by our own mistakes
And you want me to look at
Where he lay?

Now I'm fully intact but I don't give a ****
Misfortune casts its shadow a deity so grand
I follow my moonlight's eternal haze
It won't let me look at
Where he lay

It won't let me look at
Where I lay

I gazed into his eyes like beads of sweat
Blacker than the empty spacious depths
Around the little bridge-like tiny speck,
An ember on His hearth
We only think is worth
Its broken wharfs.

He said to me: "Son, don't fear empty bluffs.
They may be steep but they're not steep enough."
And judging by the ace tucked in his cuff,
I knew he would be true
And his tale would be true too
About the wharfs.

"Throughout the many vicious centuries
The motor of it always seems to freeze
Until the kindled flame does hit the breeze
And thaws its frostbit joints
And burns the hand that points
Out from the wharf."

He cleared his throat and then he said aloud:
"Is piety reaped from fertile ground?
Or by the planter's hand is it endowed?
The answer lies in strife
So mount the throne of life
Far from the wharf."

It’s true my friend,
She did leave again,
Though I did believe that
This time she would stay.
But I won’t regret,
Nor will I ever fret,
It’s only in
The game she plays.

And I just don’t
love her the same;
There’s not enough
To go around.
Though, when I
Hear her name
It’s such a
Lovely sound...

But she doesn’t care,
She only compares
Her field of daisies
With her field of hay;
And I’ll never know
What she’ll never show,
It’s only in
The game she plays.

And I just don’t
love her the same;
There’s not enough
To go around.
Though, when I
Hear her name
It’s such a
Lovely sound...

It’s two below
Here in Tupelo,
And I cannot feel
My fingers as they play;
But I can’t forget,
So maybe I’ll just sit
And think about
The game she plays.

I saw seven years had begun,
It was good.
And I saw seven ears come from one,
It was good.
And the moon in the sky with the sun
Was so **** good.

And standing alone at the gate,
It was good.
I heard the earth come awake,
It was good.
But god only knows, if I break,
It's no **** good.

'Cause, I want you, tonight, over me
Yes, I want you, tonight, over me
You know what's true,
You know just what to do,
And I want you over me.

While the mountain fell to the sea,
It was good.
We fell to the sand on the beach,
It was good.
And it's obvious, naturally,
You know **** good:

That I want you, tonight, over me
Yes, I want you, tonight, over me
You know what's true
You know just what to do
And I want you over me

You know what's on my mind,
You know I'm thinking tonight:
I want you over me.

High on the mountain,
I’m all alone,
Sittin’ by the river,
Water splashin’ on the stones;
As mornin’ fills the valley
Where before, the night was hung,
I wake up from the wine
But the pines block-out the sun

And the rain ain’t pleasin’,
And the cold is on the ground,
And strung-out on the byways
All the highwaymen stand round;
And above the crooked timber,
All the whippoorwills fly blue,
And they sing a song so lonesome,
Can’t you hear it comin’ thru?

Or did you decide
That you’ve gone deaf and blind
And I’ve been on the job so long
Who knows if I’ll survive, you just sigh,
As I wonder why I keep on
Tryin’ to get to you;
it’s no use…

There at your window,
Leanin’ on the ledge,
Y’got ‘em tryin’ to beat the blade
With a nine-pound sledge;
Y’got ‘em workin’ on a building,
Ev’ry carpenter in town;
Well if I had it my way
I would tear that building down

But it won’t get done
All I could ever win’s been won;
And I’ve been on the job so long
Who knows if I’ll survive, you won’t cry,
But will you try, if I die
While tryin’ to get to you, to
Bury Me in Georgia
Next to you

After all that I’ve been had
You’d think that I’d go mad,
But my anticipation
Outweighs my lack of patience;
‘Cause I’ve been on the job so long
Who knows if I’ll survive, so
Bury Me in Georgia
Next to you